Dear Diary
by Caia
Summary: In a few words, Sam writes her story
1. Dear Diary I

Dear Diary  
  
A few words, Samantha writes her story.  
  
Dear Diary,  
You know. Actually you don't because I do not always do this. I don't ever so, well, you don't. OK. I'm not sure where to start. I have a million questions that may never get an answer and that's just frustrating. Did I grow up to fast? 'cause all I remember was one day waking up beside this man I love so much, not being aware of everything I'd done before. How did I get here? There are small things I remember about my childhood. Going to my friends' house and playing till exhaustion bit me. As a teenager believing I was living getting drunk every Saturday in the bar of the corner. There wasn't much to do. Everybody new the one next door, their problems, their lives. But I was happy. Where did that little girl go? I don't know. She may be lost by now. Or maybe inside of that boy's head, hurting him more and more each second that goes by, hurting him every day as every night for having hurt her so deeply, so bad. And it's sad, isn't it? I woke one day grown up already, not ready to be on my own. Am I alone now? Or an I with him, this man beside me? But I'm afraid. I've hurt enough people already. Besides, he's married. It just feels so right being around him, it feels so good having someone to trust in. But his girls, God. Every time I see his girls my heart aches so badly. To think that they don't know what happened between their father and I, what went on for so long, long enough for them to know. An now I doubt whether the eldest of them doesn't know. I'm starting to believe she does. Children should always be told the truth, I agree on that, but she's so young, she doesn't need to know. He still talks to me. It happens that I'm the one who understands what his job implies, what doing what he does means to him. Not that it goes above his family though. It's over. We both said it was. I can't go on like this, and I can't remember how it all started in the first place. But does it really matter? I was with others, before and after, but him, he's different, he makes my heart beat. But it's over. I can't go back. What happened to me? What happened to my common sense? To my morals and ideals? I don't know. They're definitely gone. Every rule I had established in my mind, every rule there is at work, were all broken. I'm no-one now. Will I ever find that little girl who was not afraid to dream and make wishes, she who was not afraid to live? Because I'm lost and I need to find her to go on. I need her to guide me through the dark paths in my way to wherever it is I'll go in the end. Because she was my light, and that light, that candle was blown one day. How am I going to turn it back on? I wish I knew? I'm lost. I was afraid to see and now I'm completely lost. To my life there's no way back but I'm not sure I want to change anything I ever did. Cause everything I did, together, brought me here. If I change my past, any single stupid detail, I don't know where I would be standing now. I still don't know. And I can't go back, even if I wanted. But I need that little girl. That little girl and Jack. I'll have to resign myself with seeing him in the office every day, at least we talk. I'd be dead if it weren't for him, literally and metaphorically. I don't know how mucho I can handle, I'm not as strong as I seem to be. His simple existence keeps me alive.  
  
Samantha Spade, 2004. 


	2. Dear Diary II

Dear Diary,  
So here I am. This is my second time in the year doing this, and I'm not sure why. Maybe because I want to leave testimony that I was here in this world, that I existed, that I lived. Maybe because I want to show to those that will read this who I was, who I am now. Because I don't believe anybody knows me...at least not completely. People can put together the pieces of my life, what they know about me; but I don't think that they'll be able to recreate me or my life, even if they shared the pieces they've found. Do I let others know me? Why not? In the past I've opened myself to others and I've been hurt, hurt so badly and so profoundly that I guess I became afraid of becoming close to people. Even talking to a therapist is difficult, even if I know anything I say there is confidential. I can't do it. My heart was broken too many times, and I know what it feels like...I wouldn't want to hurt anybody and certainly not myself, again. 'Cause I have, and I know I have hurt others. And one is supposed to learn from mistakes. Well I have learnt. I learnt from my life that I get attached to people and I get to know them and they get to know me and then someone's life goes down, someone's heart is broken, someone's dreams vanish and life doesn't make sense anymore. Every hope is gone, and I feel like there's nothing I can do to prevent it from happening. I feel void inside of me...a void that can't be filled, ever. 'Cause once it's filled, something happens, and then there's hole in my soul again. There's a ball going around us people. A ball made out of responsibility, guilt or blame, trust, shame, fear, disrespect, lack of self confidence, a little bit of faith and a touch of hatred. Buy it's hard to carry that ball, that's why people don't want it. Even if having it meant having power. The ball is passed from one victim to another. Once you have the ball you don't think of all the good things that you could do with it. No, you think of someone near and whom you trust to pass it on. It's too heavy, and you don't want it. Some don't even get it. If you get it's probably because someone trusts you, because someone think he/she knows you. But I got the ball, and still I haven't let others know me. Of course I passed it on, long ago. It became a time when it was to heavy for my shoulders, it was another burden to carry, the least I needed. So I gave it to someone else who seemed strong enough to take it. That's what happens with life: when things get too complicated we try to get rid of the most heavy stuff first, and that's when mistakes are made. We can't handle the pressure, we feel we drawn in our own problems and we become blind to others'. Others that need our help, our support, our presence are forgotten in the mean world they live in by no choice. Children, for example. They are given the ball when they grow up...and they're supposed to be the ones to fix the things that we broke or couldn't take responsibility for. The ball can be transformed...into pure faith and love passing around the world, but it isn't, because we are too concentrated in our own lives. All I got to say is that I cased to understand the people I'm surrounded with. I see things and I have to make a choice. How can I have the life of anther person in my hands when I can't handle my own? That's another thing I wish I knew, and like that there are thousands. It's like if all the questions I didn't ask when I was a little girl, when I was supposed to ask them, finally popped out of my head. And just now I'm looking for answers...answers I'm not sure I'm gonna get. But I have to try, I need to. Just to feel I'm done here, to be able to say when I leave that I've done my best.  
  
Samantha Spade, 2004 (II) 


	3. Dear Diary III

OK, this one is shorter, and maybe confusing too. But think about it, Samantha's a confused person, and it's hard for her to express herself. (Is that said that way 'express herself'? I just hope you understand what I mean) :) -When I upload the entry, even if it has double space between lines, it doesn't show so, sorry.-  
  
Dear Diary,  
What when people hear words like "move on" or "don't look back, just keep on walking, don't stop, for anything"? Those are words I've said a lot, and words I've been told more than once. Those are words I'd like to believe in. But doesn't it happen, when a word is spoken too many times that it loses it's meaning? That, I do believe to be true. Because there are of those who do keep on living as many as those who don't. Many, and maybe way too many, hold on to their past, even to the most terrifying memories of their childhood. Because the past is a part of your life, whether you like it or not, and as much as you may want to hide it from others, you won't ever be able to hide it from yourself. And it takes only one person to make something a truth. If only one person believes it. Lying or sticking to a lie you've made up years ago is not the hardest thing to do. The hardest thing to do is to accept you're mistakes, you're failures, you're weaknesses. The hardest thing to do is to talk, to communicate your thought and feelings. My past made me who I am now, and I hold on to it trying not to show it to others, as I've always. And who am I now? I'm one of those millions of people that have trouble at the time to share feelings, of communicating, of talking and consequently, of moving on, and living. It's hard, I won't deny it. But there are certain things I can't quite accept either. The fact that my past goes with me everywhere, the fact that I can't stop feeling sorry for myself and for the ones around me didn't allow me to realize I had to make a choice, between my past and my future. The past I know, and the future that could be better. One should be able to live in the present, not forgetting about the past, but leaving it where it belongs. I had to make a choice. So I've made a choice. Jack is my past. I don't want to forget. But he doesn't belong in the 'here and now' of my life, not anymore. And maybe, and just maybe, Martin is my future. Because he's my present. I can't pretend. I can't pretend I didn't love Jack, and I can't pretend I don't love Martin. I can't pretend I'm not afraid because I am. Anybody in my place would, right? And taking risks is part of the process, using chances that are given along the way. Fear and pain are obstacles and if you go though that there's nothing that can stop you from getting what you want. To me, there was nothing that could stop my relationship with Jack to happen. Well, that's over. Now there's nothing stepping in the way to at least a taste of life with someone else, someone completely different, Martin. And I'm afraid, but there's no more pain (my life no longer depends on Jack's existence), and soon there will be no more fear. Or at least I hope so. Even if what I say doesn't really make sense. Because I finally feel I'm moving on.  
  
Samantha Spade, 2004. (III) 


	4. Dear Diary IV

Just to keep up with the theme. (I had nothing else to do, so I wrote this) Sorry spelling and grammar, and sorry no double space between lines again, but I can't figure it out, yet. MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! :)  
  
Dear Diary,  
Christmas is near. It's the season. Yes, it's particularly in this time of the year that I'm not sure how I feel, about anything. One part of me is happy, and the other one is sad, depressed. Because I can see all the people buying gifts for the loved ones, and finding time to spend with them, and their happiness radiates, it touches others. And it somehow gets to me... but I can't seem to give anything in return. I feel like I have no-one to spend holydays with, no-one to share feelings and anything else with. Jack is where he is supposed to be: in my past, and with his family. Martin too, with his family. Think about it, I don't know much people outside the walls of the FBI building. Erik, well he is... I don't know. Maybe I should call him to see how he's doing. Danny, I could spend Christmas with Danny. It's an option. Nice option. Now that I think about it, who is Danny going to spend Christmas with? I should ask. I don't want to spend one more Christmas alone. I don't think I ever had a normal holiday in my entire life. When I was a child, my parents used to fight all the time, the typical tree seeemd sad, like me. And I was just a little girl. That is not supposed to happen. For once in my life I want one night, only one, with someone to hold me, to wish me a Merry Christmas, really meaning it. I know Jack means it, but it's not the same coming from him. I can read him and his words say much more than that, they say 'I'm sorry' and 'I wish things had gone differently' but they didn't, and now we both have to deal with it. Both hiding our true feelings, because I love Jack, more than anything or anyone in the world. I wonder if Maria and him will ever realize the perception kids have, when something goes wrong, or when there's tension and pain. Their kids have that perception, and I don't mean to intrude, but in the long run they might get hurt. Knowing that their parents will never love each other the same way they did before I showed up. I know. I had that kind of perception when I was their age. I can still feel what I felt then. Hollow. With every fight, every argument. The look in their faces. I can still see it. And as much as they tried to disguise it, at least for this season, I could still see. For one night I want to be able to forget those memories, but something has to happen instead. To forget, even for a second, of those feelings, something beautiful has to happen, something amazing that may distract me. If only for a second. So I feel I have the right to make a wish. I wish happiness, to everybody, including myself. Christmas doesn't only remind me of my childhood, but it triggers memories of Jack and I that I thought I had forgotten. Now I see. I see that this will never end, because I loved. Now I see that I'm just using Martin as an excuse, as a way to keep my mind busy, as a way to keep my mind from thinking of him who I loved, who I love and who I'll never stop loving. I used to hate Christmas. Now I don't know if it's hatred, I'm sure though, there's a bit of fear, a bit of shame, and that most of all, the feeling of having lost hope invades me. No-one should be alone, least of all during Christmas time.  
  
Samantha Spade, near Christmas 2004. (IV) 


	5. Dear Diary V

Hey people, I hope you had some great holydays, so did Samantha :) Note: we human beings contradict ourselves constantly.  
  
Dear Diary,  
I finally found something. I don't really know if it is that important or anything, but it makes me see some things until now I couldn't. The truth is that I've had my happy times, and even if I'm not as happy as I was then now, I'm not unhappy. Maybe I just have to wait. Patience. There's no rush. I think I've been trying to live one (or two) step before to what I'm supposed to because I was afraid of not having enough time latter. Time for what, I'm not sure. It doesn't really matter anymore. I understood that I have to take my time. When did this happen? For the holydays. I was just looking at the people around me and I noticed they didn't seem to be in a rush, or such a rush. Why should I? I've got time. And if I don't get to do or have all I ever dreamt of then I think I'm lucky for what I did have. There's only one man I love (at least for the moment), and I have never felt that way before. Jack. But it's true he's not for me to have. Not that I'm losing hope or anything. There's Martin, who likes me more than I like him and there's Danny, who seems to understand me completely. Vivian, well, we have our differences. But we're all different. Along with Erik, they are the people I want to have in my life. At the moment there's nothing or no-one else I need. It's of course in different ways that we all love each other, but we do. Funny, I never thought I would be writing something like this, considering what I've written before. :) Love, love is all we need and where there's love there's everything. Isn't that? I honestly don't know if I believe it but nothing has proven me otherwise. The benefit of the doubt. So just for you to know, I AM HAPPY. I'm happy I have the chance to see my friends and others (Jack) every day. I'm happy to make it through the day to see the sun go down and to make it through the night to see the sun go up again. And to see the world I live in grow. I AM HAPPY, I AM GLAD I have people to talk to (even if it is a therapist), people to share with. I thought I didn't but I do, I do. There's everybody. What keeps me going? I'm not certain I want to find out...what's the mystery going to be then?  
Samantha Spade, 2005 (V) 


End file.
